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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431297">The Devil's Eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kworm/pseuds/sp00kworm'>sp00kworm</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Scream (1996), Scream (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Billy Never Got Shot, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Breaking and Entering, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Injury, Knifeplay, M/M, Murder, Mutilation, Occurs 15 years after the original, Older Billy Loomis, Peeping, Prison, Stalking, Strangulation, Violence, prison break - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 10:48:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23431297</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kworm/pseuds/sp00kworm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The knife came up to pat your cheek, “Very good, baby. Been a long time since high school, huh?” He smeared your blood over your jaw, wiping the blade of the kitchen knife clean with a hum of enjoyment, “Fifteen years...” He observed dreamily, “It’s like Michael fuckin’ Myers. Breaking out of the sanatorium to satisfy his lust for blood. Except in his version he burst into the closet and got his eye mutilated. Maybe that makes you Laurie?” He pushed the knife downwards under the waistband of your bottoms, poking the point upwards for fun before he traced it back upwards, digging it against your stomach, “This is even his weapon…Maybe I’ll cut your throat and pose you with a pumpkin for fun like the sick fucker he was?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Loomis/Gender Neutral Reader, Billy Loomis/Reader, Ghostface (Scream) &amp; Reader, Ghostface (Scream)/Reader, Ghostface/Gender Neutral Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Devil's Eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An alarm. Billy dared to look up through the small window of his door as the lock chunked, signalling that is was locked and closed for the next few hours. He chewed at his cheek as the wardens started to make their rounds. Each room would be disengaged at one point, checked, and locked once more for the night.</p><p>“Fifteen fuckin’ years and it’s the same old shit, isn’t it?” Billy droned behind the door, smirking as the grouchy warden smacked his baton against the glass.</p><p>“Can it, Loomis.” He shouted as they turned and walked back to the end of the hall to search the rooms before his on the other end. He was last. He was always last. The man chewed his lip, fingers turning in the hand cuffs. He’d gotten out of the jacket for good behaviour. Doing what the big wig told him. Obeying every command made him grind his teeth, but for what it gave him, it was worth it. Access to the library was nice. He flexed against the cuffs, holding the book open with his thumb between the pages as they started their rounds. He ground his teeth again and flicked his tongue against the pin tucked between his gums and cheek before reaching up to pluck it out.</p><p>“Fuckin’ useless the lot of ‘em.” He grumbled as he pulled the hair pin free and set about undoing the handcuff lock, pushing it back, carefully pushing open the sections of the lock, one rotation at a time.</p><p> </p><p>Billy felt himself smirk when the first one popped free, his hand flexing before he undid the second with much more ease. The guards were next door and he hummed a tune as he reached for the cuffs chain and tugged, pulling the chain towards the bed as he turned his back to the door and pulled the hard back book back in his lap, the cuffs in his hand, a knot of chain wrapped around his fingers, as he waited for them to finish with mad old Tommy next door.</p><p>“What I wouldn’t give to read some fuckin’ Stephen King in this place.” Billy mused as he looked back down at the hard copy of The Hobbit and rolled his eyes with disinterest, clenching the chain in his hand as he waited, brown eyes following the words and not really taking them in. He reached to pull his hair back, slicking the dark hair backwards, the curtains of his youth forgotten about when he spent a year incarcerated. It was hard to maintain any real form of haircut. Slicked back suited him, as did the short beard over his face as well. They didn’t let him have a razor. They shaved his face. He had a little say over what they did. Still, he could cope. He would always cope until he found his way out of here.</p><p> </p><p>He decided, as the door opened with a clunk, that The Hobbit, really was the most boring thing he had ever read.</p><p> </p><p>“Turn around, Loomis. Hands where we can see ‘em. Pills and room check.” The warden announced from the door, burning holes into the back of his uniform, “Loomis. Now.” The baton in his hand went with a crack against his other.</p><p>“Don’t you ever get tired of shouting, Louis?” Billy drawled, licking a finger as he turned the page, desperately trying to stop himself from grinning as his blood roared in his arms, tensing his muscles as the two of them took steps inside of the room.</p><p>One guard continued to walk towards him, boots thumping as he drew close to the edge of the bed, observing the chain still linked to the wall as he loomed over the man convicted of killing six people, most of them his classmates, “Hands or you get the rough treatment, Loomis.”</p><p>Billy turned to look over his shoulder, “What if that’s what I want, Louis?”</p><p>“Sure thing, asshole. We can wrangle you into that fuckin’ straight jacket again, see how much you enjoy that. Last time you didn’t stop howling and kicking the door for three days.” Louis grinned down at him, looking Billy in the eyes with arrogance he once saw in those football player’s eyes. That was before he dragged the knife through their spleen.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I want to be in that again.” Billy hummed as they reached for the chain of his handcuffs. Two wardens. Not great odds, but against the alarm, he stood even less of a chance.</p><p>“Then comply, Loomis. No one likes playing your little mind games. Hands.” Louis growled, his temper reaching the end of its tether. He tugged the chain and Billy held his end tightly as he snapped the book in front of him shut with a thump. Louis frowned as Billy turned to look at him, pieces of hair falling over his dark eyes.</p><p>“What’s the worst way to die, Louis?” Billy asked with a grin.</p><p>“What the fuck…” Louis reared backwards too late as Billy reached for him with the chain, grappling the man tight by the throat before looping the knot he had made with his hand over the warden’s head. His breathing became strangled as Billy let go and tugged the other end.</p><p>“Strangulation is up there, Louis!” Billy roared.</p><p>The other man watched in horror before coming for him with the baton. Billy grinned before sidestepping and throwing him against the wall, the brick colliding with his skull. Stunned, he let the killer take hold of him once more, eyes rolling as Billy took him by the hair.</p><p>“Let’s see how your blood looks on the wall, huh?” Billy sneered before slamming the guard’s head against the brick. Once. Twice. A third time. His head split and bled with the fourth before Billy smiled with satisfaction at the blood pouring from his skull. Louis gasped in the corner as Billy reached and pulled the chain tight again, watching the guard go purple in the face.</p><p>“This is for fifteen fuckin’ years, Louis.”</p><p> </p><p>Louis went purple all too fast and Billy smirked down at his work as he pushed pieces of hair from his eyes. The eyes bulging from his skull was a new look. It suited him, he concluded. Billy admired it for a moment before heading for the door, spinning the handcuffs on his finger before slamming the door to his cell closed behind him. The locks activated with a great thud and he waved at the glass window, looking at the blood smeared on the wall once more before he walked away, smirking as he walked down the shadows of the corridor. The alarm was silent on the wall. Searches were finished. He had ten minutes before someone got suspicious and came looking for the other wardens. Billy walked to the end of the corridor and smirked at the window, holding the pointed clip of the cuff up to the moonlight before fisting it in his hand. He raised it before cracking it against the edge of the glass. The glass cracked in a webbed pattern but didn’t give. Crazy Carl screeched from inside his cell at the noise. Billy raised the point again and smashed his fist against the glass with a grunt, watching with glee as the webbing caved and the window to freedom opened. He paused to smell the night air before wrapping his fingers around the frame, gritting his teeth as shard of glass shredded his fingertips, before hauling himself upwards. Wiggling, he managed to pull himself out on his stomach, grunting as dirt mixed with the blood on his hands. An alarm sounded behind him and Billy scrambled to his feet, turning to flag the brick walls with his middle finger before he was off into the woodlands.</p><p> </p><p>Woodsboro wasn’t much different. Billy hid behind the sunglasses on his face as he watched the town from the front window of the new café. Fifteen years, and Woodsboro was the same sleepy town it was when he was younger. Eighteen and partying like any other high school student until that whore, Maureen Prescott, had slept with his father the year before his plan had come to fruitition. He rubbed at his beard as he sipped at the ice coffee in his grasp, enjoying the cool drink in the summer heat as he watched the world go bye outside of the window. The waitress sauntered over to deliver him his slice of cake, giving him a lip bite and a curious glance as she walked back towards the counter to serve the other customers queuing at the front. Billy watched her ass bounce out of the corner of his glasses before turning back to look out of the window at the bookstore.</p><p>‘Out of Darkness by Sidney Prescott’</p><p>He scoffed softly before picking up the small fork for his cake. He pushed pieces into his mouth as he watched the bookstore with mild interest. Everyone would love to hear her story, he was sure about that. The final girl. The girl that won. He doubted it was much of a read. All about mental anguish.</p><p>“Shits overdone anyway.” Billy scowled at the shop as he mutilated the cake in front of him, thinking on just what good it would do him to be back where he started it all. The cake was in pieces. He wasn’t fond anyway. He picked up the drink and tucked a single dollar under the plate for her annoying service, just for the spite of it, before leaving, the little bell jingling behind him as he went.</p><p> </p><p>The pavement outside was hot. It was getting to the beginning of summer now, and Billy adjusted the sunglasses over his eyes as he fiddled with the stolen wallet in his trouser pocket. A few people on the highway were unfortunate enough to run across him. Stolen clothes and various bank cards later, and he was back in Woodsboro, the cash in his leather wallet enough to last him a while if he played his cards right. Sidney didn’t live here anymore. He wasn’t at much of a risk of being recognised. At least not yet. He didn’t know if that Dewey was still running around pretending to play cop. He’d been sleeping in the back seat of the four by four in the meantime, but he’d kill for some form of hot water. If there was one thing he missed now. It was hot water and a shower. He needed to remedy his situation soon. With a huff he squinted up at the sun before moving back towards his stolen car. The plate needed swapping before it was traced, or maybe he would cut his losses. He pushed a finger against his bottom lip as he unlocked the car and sat in the driver’s seat, fingers playing, drumming on the steering wheel before he turned the wheel and shoved the gear stick a little too hard. The clutch groaned as he ignored the protest and swerved out into the road, heading towards the edge of town in order to dump his vehicle somewhere deep off the beaten track.</p><p> </p><p>The irony and simplicity of him returning to Woodsboro made him laugh as he launched the empty coffee cup out of the car window.</p><p> </p><p>Woodsboro at night was just as sleepy. Doors locked and curtains drawn. Billy pushed the sunglasses into his hair to hold the strands back from his face as he strolled down the streets, wondering and thinking. Wherever old classmates used to live, he drifted towards. A few were sold, different names on the letterboxes and others were empty, the windows boarded up and the families forgotten about. Billy walked past Sidney’s old home with a smirk, licking at his lips as he pulled the sunglasses from his head and watched the empty house for a moment. Black. No one moved inside. Whoever lived there was already in bed.</p><p>“All in due time, I think.” Billy hummed to himself as he continued down the road, watching the rows upon rows of houses with decreasing interest, until he stood by a familiar front lawn. On the outskirts of town, he could remember a few nights spent outside this house before he always scuttled down into the side of the picket fence, hidden by the tree and the garbage cans as he watched them peel of their shirt and get into the shower. It helped him get his rocks off many a night after Sidney pushed him away and told him she couldn’t. Stu sometimes lent a hand. He didn’t have either of them anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Billy reached into his stolen jacket and rooted around in the pocket to distract his mind from his foiled plans. The lighter was expensive, and he looked it over curiously before flicking the flint and looking at the flame. He jumped when the light in the bathroom switched on and ducked behind the old tree, brown eyes peering around the corner of the trunk to try and catch a glimpse of who lived in the house now. The glass in the window was frosted now, double glazed with a vent in the corner to remove the steam of the shower. He watched and squinted at the blurry figure in the bathroom. If the record store owner still lived here, then it would be his kid, the very same one he watched undress night after night. Billy looked at his watch. It was the exact time when he used to hide here and watch you shower. He chewed his lip as you peeled off a shirt and leaned over to turn on the hot water. Billy ducked down the side of the house after that, peering into the back window. Every other light in the house was off. He grinned as he pushed his fingers under the sliding window, drawing the wooden frame upwards. It was almost too easy.</p><p> </p><p>The kitchen was silent as he climbed inside, pushing plants on the window ledge to the side as he tugged his legs inside. He grunted when he smacked his injured hand down on the tiles and hissed under his breath as he deftly wrangled his legs inside, hopping over the top of the sink and tap to land in the kitchen. A knife block sat in the corner by the microwave. Billy licked at his bottom lip as he walked over and took the largest kitchen knife, admiring the glint of it in the light from the window before he edged his way to the door and peered around. Nothing. The clock on the wall ticked as he strode through the dining room and towards the stairs, flicking the knife between his hands, catching it as he listened at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at the carpet to see if the wood underneath would give him away. The shower was still running. Billy put his weight on the first step and waited. Nothing. There wasn’t a creak. He continued upwards slowly, putting one boot in front of the other as he continued upwards, checking his weight against each step as he continued to the top of the staircase. At the top he paused and looked at the light underneath the bathroom door before opening the door across from it.</p><p> </p><p>The pyjamas laid out on the bed suggested that this was the room he was looking for. You even had the old walk in wardrobe he remembered. With a mild observation he reached for the handle and slid it open before pushing the clothes apart and nestling himself between them, closing the door to hide himself as he peered through the slats of wood and waited. He clenched the knife in his hand tightly as he heard the water shut off and your music move from the bathroom and into the room. The door creaked open and Billy breathed quietly as he saw the towel wrapped around your body. You dried your hair off with another little towel and dropped the other after rubbing the water off your skin. Billy pushed his fingers against the handle and inched the wardrobe open quietly under the guise of your music. He stood there, knife in his hand, white shirt stained with mud from your plants, jeans slouched on his hips and boots twisted into the grain of the carpet as he watched you dress, covering inches of skin he used to dream about marking.</p><p> </p><p>As though the thoughts in his own head were too loud, you turned around, top clutched to your front as you caught sight of him and opened your mouth. Billy stood and waited for the scream. Your voice caught in your throat as you saw the knife clutched in the man’s hand. Billy raised a finger to his lips, shushing you around his smirk as he reached forwards and snatched the top away from you. The man pushed his fingers greedily against the skin of your neck as he shoved you. You were sent flying against the bed as, at last, a strangled scream escaped your throat. The killer followed you, thighs snapping tight against your hips, pinning you against the bed, his hand snatching your wrists to pin them back.</p><p>“Please! Please don’t!” You cried, turning your head away from the mocking sneer on his bearded face.</p><p>“Fifteen fuckin’ years and everyone in this shithole of a town has forgotten what I look like.” Billy snapped, pushing the knife close to the skin on your neck, watching it indent under the pressure of the blade. He didn’t cut you yet, just held the edge there as a warning, “It didn’t take any of you long to move on, huh? To forget about the killer. They all do that…and the killer always makes his grand reappearance.” Billy’s dark eyes traced downwards, looking at the hot skin of your chest before he traced the knife downwards and cut a trail over your rib when you flinched.</p><p> </p><p>It clicked as his brown hair slipped forwards and flopped over his eyes in curtains, his smile full of teeth as he watched blood drip over your hips.</p><p>“Billy?” You asked breathlessly, holding yourself still in case he cut you again for another flinch under the cold steel.</p><p>The knife came up to pat your cheek, “Very good, baby. Been a long time since high school, huh?” He smeared your blood over your jaw, wiping the blade of the kitchen knife clean with a hum of enjoyment, “Fifteen years...” He observed dreamily, “It’s like Michael fuckin’ Myers. Breaking out of the sanatorium to satisfy his lust for blood. Except in his version he burst into the closet and got his eye mutilated. Maybe that makes you Laurie?” He pushed the knife downwards under the waistband of your bottoms, poking the point upwards for fun before he traced it back upwards, digging it against your stomach, “This is even his weapon…Maybe I’ll cut your throat and pose you with a pumpkin for fun like the sick fucker he was?”</p><p>“Michael Myers isn’t fucking real, Billy.” You snapped at him as he pushed the knife back against your throat.</p><p>Billy sneered, “No he isn’t.” before leaning over, close to your lips, his hair tickling your face, “But I sure fucking am.” The knife pushed against your throat again as punishment. Billy didn’t take kindly to your attitude.</p><p> </p><p>You pushed your hips upwards and squirmed, earning your arm a cut as Billy admired the colour of the blood on the blade, wiping it on your other cheek as he wondered what he was going to do with you.</p><p>“Where’s your old man?” He took the knife away with a dark look.</p><p>“He’s been dead for three years.” You replied with a swallow as Billy ran that over in his mind.</p><p>“So, you’re all alone?” He smiled at that discovery and hummed before leaning over and slamming the knife into the mattress by your head, “Then I think we can come to a…” Billy leaned close so your lips brushed as he spoke, “Little agreement, you and I.” The knife glittered in the corner of your eyes as he pushed his nose against your hair and breathed deeply.</p><p>“What sort of agreement?” You asked. Billy didn’t seem to hear you.</p><p>“To think. I used to watch outside by the garbage cans and get my rocks off to you and here we are.” He licked at your face, swiping the blood from your cheek, “I get a new little partner in crime, and you…” Billy pushed bloodied fingers around your neck, his breathing quick as the adrenaline howled through his bloodstream, “You get to stay alive, baby.”</p><p> </p><p>You closed your eyes as he pressed a single, bloodied kiss to your lips before blood and spit dripped past his lips, dripping over the cupid’s bow of your lips and back down your cheeks as he grinned, white teeth stained pink. Billy took a shuddering breath, running a hand through his hair to try and calm his heartbeat and stop himself from acting out as you looked at him shyly. His hands flexed, smearing blood between his fingers as got back off the bed and took the knife.</p><p>“Come on, baby. Take me on a tour of your place.” He came up behind you as you stood up, “Lets see what horror movies you have, hm? Maybe I’ll let you have some fun if you got the classics.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A random piece I had to get out of my mind in all honesty. Older Billy is just something I wish the sequels would give us...But alas I know that's too meta and in line with actual horror movie logic for Wes. This will probably remain a stand alone piece unless I get some inspiration. </p><p>Either way, I hope you all enjoyed!<br/>Comments and kudos are always appreciated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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